Part 26 (2/2)

”Oh, no, Ernest. I've got to get away. Somewhere--anywhere. Just by myself. I don't love you, Ernest. You don't really love me. It's only because I'm Daniel Drare's daughter that you married me. It was just his wealth and his power and--and is unscrupulous self that fascinated you.”

”You don't know what you're saying.”

”I do, I do, Ernest! You'd like to be like him. But you can't. You are like him in a lot of ways. The little ways. But you're not big enough to be really like him. Let me go, Ernest. Before it's too late;--let me go!”

He came and put a hand on her shoulder.

”I'll never let you go,” he said.

”You must!” She whispered. ”You've got to let me. Just to get away from all this. I've never been away in all my life. He'd never let me go--either.”

Unconsciously her eyes went up to the picture.

The full, red face with the hard lines in it. The thick, sensual lips.

The small, cunning eyes that laughed. The ponderous, heavy set of the figure. The big, powerful hands.

His gaze followed after hers.

And very suddenly he left her side. He walked over to the mantel.

”Funny,” he muttered to himself. ”Jolly strange--that!”

Her fingers clutched at her breast.

”Ernest--! What're you doing?”

”Can you see anything wrong here, Jenny?”

He was looking up at the portrait.

”Wrong?” She said it beneath her breath. ”Wrong--”

He reached up a hand. He drew his fingers across the canvas.

”By Jove!” His voice was excited. ”So it is. Thought I wasn't crazy.

When could it have happened, eh? Ever notice this, Jenny?”

She could not take her eyes from his hand that was going over and over the canvas along the arm of the painted figure.

”Can't you see it, Jenny?”

”I--I can't see anything.”

She whispered it.

”Come over here--; where I am.”

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